


One Hell of a Pot

by Reyanth



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Tenipuri - Fandom, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Atobe being Atobe, Crossover, M/M, Narcissism, Tea, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10392108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: That time Atobe swore he would sell his soul for a pot of tea... and got more than he bargained for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was purely a crack concept... that got serious fast. What can I say? That's basically the definition of Atobe right there.  
> Throw in Sebastian and you have two of the most complicated characters I have ever written in an impossible power struggle. Any other partner and either of them would prevail almost by default. @_@ So I concentrated on the aesthetics rather than getting wrapped up in the never-ending push and pull these two are sure to engage in. It's there. It's just not the center-piece.
> 
> Please suspend your disbelief and just enjoy.
> 
> I recommend sitting down to read this with a freshly brewed cup of tea and The Best of Chopin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wygy721nzRc

When one’s family has controlled the international trade of Western teas for generations, one tends to be extraordinarily accustomed to the perfect breakfast blend… not to mention the perfect lunch time cup, the perfect afternoon tea blend, the ideal after-dinner fragrance, and everything in between.   
   
In fact, one might even confess to being dependent upon that consistent source of motivation, refreshment, and relaxation.   
   
One might even go so far as to secretly harbor the truth of an addiction. That one morning cup… those 4 - 12 cups thereafter… Without them, the world might just stop turning in a conceivable fashion.  
   
This was the unfortunate reality that assaulted Atobe Keigo one morning and persisted for an entire month. The culprit: his own dear mother. The cause: a sudden whim to exchange every pot of Western tea on the estate for traditional Japanese sencha, matcha, and so forth, in yet another effort to prolong her no-longer-quite-so-eternal youth and beauty.  
  
Forcibly cut off from his gigantic tea warehouse in rural Tokyo, Atobe was running dry. The caffeine-infused green teas were fine in the morning but for a fruity lift at lunch time or a relaxing cup before bed, herbal tea was the only answer.  
   
“I would sell my soul for a decent pot of tea!” Atobe snarled as he stalked into his empty room and threw his coat onto the padded arm chair by the window. For a calming influence, he turned to the slanted, ceiling-high, gilded mirror that hung before his bed and watched himself breathe elegantly in and out, his sculpted chest rising to fill his tailored shirt and slowly falling again in a soothing, repetitive rhythm. He could almost sense the wafting scents of chamomile and rose with a dash of spearmint...  
   
No, he could certainly smell exactly those fragrances, and then some. Parting lashes he didn't realize had drifted closed in appreciation of the flavorsome bouquet, he blinked hazily into the mirror until his vision focused on the shadow coalescing behind him.  
   
“Perhaps I could be of some assistance.”  
   
Atobe's first thought was that despite the human features, this was no human. The clinging wisps of shadow and the red glow of its eyes contained a trace of terror that penetrated even Atobe's diamond-hard defenses.

His second thought was that this being was almost as exquisite as he himself. Every elegant line and curve, every inch of flawless alabaster complexion, every strand of splendid silken hair... he was the next best thing to perfection (that being Atobe himself, naturally).   
   
And that scent.  
   
“You smell divine,” he found himself murmuring.  
   
The being laughed, his voice ringing out, rich and deep. “I think you're referring to this.”  
   
There, in the mirror, he lifted a sache of herbs from which wafted a scent that made Atobe's head spin with desire. He wanted for little in this life but right now, that little was defined by a flavorsome pot of tea.  
   
And yet, he was not so foolish as to flirt carelessly with the infernal. “I’ve studied various interpretations of the Faust legend,” he drawled.  
   
“Beautiful, and well-educated,” crooned what Atobe was quite sure was a veritable demon. He was, however, pleased to note that at least it was one capable of discerning true quality.  
   
“Also wise,” Atobe added, turning slowly to find that the demon had taken on a fully solid form and was just as present in the room as he himself. “Enough to recognize an inadvisable deal when I see one.”  
   
“Indeed,” agreed the demon readily. “What fool would trade a pot of tea for that which makes him human?”  
   
Atobe raised his sculpted brows. “Not the best salesman, are you?”  
   
“And yet... Here I am.”  
   
“Indeed.”  
   
The demon took a step that eliminated what space had kept them separated, his lips at Atobe’s ear in an instant. “It's not enough to just say the words, you know. You have to _want_ it,” he hissed, sending tendrils of shivers down Atobe’s stiff spine. The slow intake of breath that sounded at his neck gave him the impression of being sniffed like a lamb on the rack. “You _do_ want it.” Delicate hands landed lightly on his hips as ruby lips turned toward his jaw but maintained a sliver of distance. All the while, rose, mint, and chamomile mingled and separated with every little movement and every waft of breath, holding him entranced. “Enough that I heard you call; through all the noise and the clamor, through the cacophonies of desperation and yearning… It was your aching _need_ that made itself heard and pulled me here. All… for one… _pot of tea_.”  
   
Perhaps it was the proximity of their lips, both lightly parted, seemingly about to meld in a kiss at the slightest movement. He had to ask. “Are you sure that's not a euphemism?”  
   
There was a moment of suspension in which the demon seemed surprised, almost… caught off guard… and then a growl sounded low in his throat, rumbling with an intriguing combination of lust and threat that confused Atobe’s sensibilities. The creature parted from him. “If you don't want to make the deal-”  
   
“I didn't say that!” Before he knew it, Atobe was clutching at a thin, lanky waist, pulling it back toward him and sliding his forearms around subtle hips. He was reeling with the delicious aroma that blossomed with the motion. “I want it.”  
   
“Well then.”  
   
“I have terms.”  
   
“Naturally.”  
   
Sometimes desire has a way of clouding the mind, dulling one’s ability to think clearly. However, the heady scents were actually making Atobe sharper and an idea began to form.  
   
“I shall require your dedicated service,” he announced, seeing a path to making this a rather more lucrative deal than the demon would expect.  
   
Like a clever negotiator, the demon took his cues and commented on them silently through his actions, placing his own hand on Atobe’s hip in a way that brushed his shirt upward until soft fingers contacted smooth skin stretched over packed muscle. “ _Whatever_ your heart desires,” whispered the fiend.  
   
“Until the pot is empty,” Atobe bartered.    
   
“Until the last drop is consumed,” the demon clarified, with a quirk of the lips implying that _that_ was definitely a euphemism. However, whether he intended innuendo, or whether he was thinking of draining Atobe dry of his very soul remained to be seen.  
   
Still, it was a fair stipulation—and one Atobe had already seen his way around. “...By me,” he insisted. “And none-other.”  
   
“Yes, My Lord.”  
   
“At my will.”  
   
“…Yes, My Lord.”  
   
“You will refer to me as King.”  
   
“Yes... My King.” The demon leaned in as if to kiss him but then paused with an after-thought. “I will require a contract.”  
   
A note of laughter escaped Atobe’s guard. It was standard business practice, after all. “As will I,” he responded dryly, reminding the creature that a contract was equally binding.  
   
“Not one of ink and paper, but of flesh and blood.”  One long, elegant finger traced its way down Atobe’s neck, fingering the rim of his collar. “The more visible, the greater the strength of the bond.”  
   
Atobe smirked. He knew just where to put it. As for his demon… “A beauty spot right... here...” He pressed the tip of his tongue to a spot beside the unnaturally calm pulse point at the neck. “…would do wonders for your external symmetry.”  
   
“My external symmetry is impeccable,” responded the demon with an intriguing ring of pride.  
   
“Precisely,” Atobe said cheerfully, raising his finger to cover the spot as he leaned away to observe the effect. “It's the tiniest inconsistencies that enhance the effects of natural beauty, wouldn't you agree?”  
   
“An interesting theory.”  
   
Atobe let his lips rise lazily into smile. “If you don't want to make the deal…” he taunted.  
   
A moment later, those very same lips blushed with the heat of contact and his tongue tingled with sensation as the demon’s brushed sinuously against it. A burning under his eye almost brought tears to his lashes and in that moment he gave the demon more control than he liked, his head craning back as he accepted the brunt of the deep, invasive kiss.  
   
Inhalation to counter a sudden lack of oxygen brought with it a reminder of the true nature of their contract and filled him with a thrill of innocent anticipation that had nothing to do with the rush of arousal that was assaulting every cell of his body. He really did want that tea… but it wasn’t all he wanted.  
   
“What do I call you?” he asked, freeing his lips and parting his misted lashes. The burning had faded but now there was a heat to his mole that felt somehow powerful, infused with arcane mysteries.  
   
“Anything you like,” responded the demon, moving his kisses to that gorgeous charm point.  
   
“Your name, demon.”  
   
“What’s in a name?” Already, his tastes had been predicted and put to good use. Worse, the reference reminded him of that glorious rose scent that was constantly tickling at his nostrils.  
   
“A rose may smell as sweet but without the clarity of names, poisonous foliage will unravel the unwary,” Atobe pointed out, not one to be sidetracked so easily.  
   
“Ah, but you can appreciate the beautiful properties of poisonous things, no? Name me what you will.”  
   
Atobe grunted, sliding his hand up a proud chest and curling his fingers about the demon’s neck, his middle finger resting over the new mole that housed the tiny, finite details of their contract. The fragrances of the tea were teasing his senses and his patience was running thin. This was no time for a battle of wits over the true name of the beast that circled him. There were more urgent matters at hand. “Then I’ll name you the dog you are,” he threatened—to no effect. The demon waited pleasantly, issuing no counter either to the insult or to the crushing grip on his throat.  
   
Atobe’s hand sprung open. He would not give in to frustration. He thought of the pack of Cavalier King Charles that had trotted at his mother’s heels back in London. He thought of the one male pup that had defied her will and answered only to him. “Sebastian,” he announced. “It’s as fitting a name as any.”  
   
The demon’s reaction was curious. He froze, his brows twitching in recognition, his eyes delving into Atobe’s. Insight revealed a cautious wisp of fear. That name meant something to him.

“Sebastian… Michaelis.”

Atobe waited, neither agreeing to nor denying the name the demon gave himself. The play of expressions that followed was worth it. Something akin to nostalgia, some kind of shock, and a rush of angry denial, then resolve.

“If it pleases My King,” he murmured, as if he had meant to suggest the name all along rather than letting it slip.

Not his true name, but a name that had meaning to him, and that was something.

*

Sebastian Michaelis. It was a name that defined the most bitter-sweet term of his existence. It was a name associated with grudgingly respectful servitude and a chaffing desire for freedom from the shackles of endearment. It was a name reserved for use by a soul so rich the satisfaction of that meal lingered for over a century. It was a name that came with a deep well of memories and feelings better left untouched. Now, it was a name he wore again.

If he hadn’t personally consumed the soul of Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian might have been susceptible to the romantic notion that this boy was his old master reincarnate. His capacity for arrogance and haughty pride were certainly equal to that of the young earl. His ambition was even greater, for he was not focused on a goal so short-term as revenge. No, this boy wanted the world in his grasp and had the means and the strength of will to pursue it. And yet… he had sold his future for the most trivial of…

Too late, Sebastian began to sense the trap. Whatever he had in mind, the boy was utterly confident that he would live out the grand future he envisioned and that meant he believed he had outsmarted Sebastian.

It meant little, the demon told himself. Many thought they could outsmart him. Ciel had thought so, too, once. Needless to say, none had succeeded.  
   
Sebastian had noted the specific clauses his quarry had insisted upon. The last drop from the pot to be brewed must be consumed at the will of the individual in question to fulfill consummation of the contract. However, his “will” in the face of… tea… had proven fickle enough that he agreed to sell his soul for it. Did he truly believe he could resist drinking that last fatal drop? Was that his plan? Sebastian found it lacking.  
   
“And whom do I have the pleasure of serving?” questioned Sebastian, lifting his fingers to wrap about those that had disengaged from his neck. He brought them to his lips and favored them with a chaste kiss, his eyes boring into those of his new master.  
   
This contract would be a short one compared to the years spent in service to Ciel but Sebastian suspected it would prove entertaining in its own right. Ciel had been but a child; naïve in many ways even as his potential beckoned to the depraved sensibilities of the demonic.  
   
This was no Ciel before him, for all the similarities of age and status. This boy boasted the body of an athlete, the ardent mind of a scholar, and Sebastian sensed in him the proclivities of a man grown. He was also keenly aware of his own surpassing good looks, a knowledge which manifested in inherent eroticism.  
   
“You may consider yourself blessed to be beholden to the one and only Atobe Keigo.”  
   
Sebastian chuckled. “I have no affinity with blessings, My King.”  
   
“You’ll find that’s changed,” Atobe told him, with all the regal arrogance of a true king. “Now, run along and brew me my tea,” he said, without a moment’s thought for hesitation, considering that he was practically ordering his own eternal damnation.  
   
“Yes, My King.”  
   
*  
   
Atobe leaned into one arm braced heavily against the tiles as a stream of hot water poured over him, washing away what insecurities permeated his solid will. Was it insanity to think he could outsmart a demon perhaps as ancient as The Fall itself? Quite likely. Yet insanity had never posed a problem for him.

He could and would win this exchange, and from it, he would gain an invaluable asset. Not a measly pot of tea—though that he could hardly remain patient for—but a powerful creature bound to his will in almost unconditional servitude.

He had no doubt that Sebastian was usually far more scrupulous with his contracts. As many others had done over time, the demon had been thrown by the unshakeable confidence that led Atobe to make bets upon himself that most would consider foolish. Atobe, however, knew he would never fail in anything he set his mind to, and thus foolishness was simply a charade. Dominion over this demon was no exception.

Toweling off, he observed himself in the bathroom mirror, studying the pretty mole that was now an open declaration of his mastery. It looked no different. There was no improving upon perfection, after all. He felt it, though; the power that resided in that contract.  
Raising his fingers to his face, he searched for any weakness in his plan and found none. His brilliance confirmed, he pulled the pale blue silk of his robe about his figure and admired his reflection for a moment before returning to his bedroom.  
   
One eyebrow floated up in an admission of how impressed he was by what he found. He had to admit that Sebastian had gotten his measure in the short time since their acquaintance.  
   
[Chopin ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wygy721nzRc)played softly in elegant serenade to the aesthetically pleasing dim glow that suffused the room and cast a romantic light upon the rose petals that adorned the bed.  
   
Only upon Atobe’s entrance did Sebastian raise the lid of the pot and let loose the full essence of the gracious scents that had tantalized him. The mint refreshed him, the chamomile relaxed him, and the rose enveloped him while a base of assam and a hint of elderflower now made their presences known as a result of infusion. It was like no blend Atobe had ever heard of.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, reluctantly giving away his pleasure at the presentation in an unguarded expression of delight. “It’s… highly unconventional.”

“I believe an equally apt description would be: inventive,” suggested the demon.

Having taken his time to peruse the preparations given to the setting, Atobe now turned his attention to the demon who wore the guise of a butler. With some distance between them, he was able to observe the refined motions and tailored appearance that would do any household proud. It was hard to believe the raw malice he had sensed earlier existed in this sophisticated example of the ideal servant. Were all demons so adept or was he simply practiced in assuming such a form?

He poured tea like it was an art, filling the cup to just the right level so that it was as full as could be without inviting spillage upon transfer. Atobe took the cup offered him and leaned against the post of the bed, holding it below his chin to enjoy the scents as it cooled. The green leaves scrolling around the inner rim were lined with gold in a subtle but elegant pattern Atobe approved of. The cup was from one of his favorite sets—a gift from his aunt the last time she had returned from a business trip to England.

“This blend is unique to a small, locally operated tea shop in America,” Sebastian explained. “You won’t find the likes of it anywhere else in the world—not in such quality of taste as well as scent.”

“You used the large pot,” Atobe noted, lifting the cup to his lips and sampling its contents.

He failed to hear Sebastian’s answer as he was transported to a dimension beyond the physical for a short time. No bitter, leafy matcha here. This was earthy glory and sweet, calming satisfaction in a cup.

A run of high piano chords accompanied Atobe’s transports of bliss as his head tilted back against the bed post and the heat of the tea warmed his mouth, throat, and chest. When his eyes slid open, he caught Sebastian watching him with a hunger that surely wasn’t entirely literal.

His gaze slid to the pot, already lidded. For a moment, he mused on the thoughtfulness of that action, as if the demon were acting in Atobe’s best interests to draw out the longevity of the contract.

Bringing his other hand up to cup the tea and make the most of its warmth, he observed Sebastian once more, impressed by the lack of visible restraint despite what he had seen a moment ago. He took another sip, watching the demon butler all the while.  
Soon, there was only one small mouthful left in the cup.  
   
“Come here.”  
   
“As you wish,” Sebastian intoned, gliding toward him.  
   
Atobe held out the cup. He couldn’t resist a small smirk at the surprise that registered on Sebastian’s honed features.  
   
“My King?”  
   
“Drink,” Atobe ordered.  
   
Sebastian was still for a moment, obviously weighing up the clause of the contract that insisted Atobe must be the one to consume the last drop. However, he knew as well as Atobe did that the clause referred to the last drop in the pot itself, not this one cup. There was no harm to him in following the order.  
   
Thus, he opened his mouth to receive the lip of the tea cup and took in the small portion Atobe bestowed upon him by tipping up the rim. A moment later, that was replaced by Atobe’s lips. He savored the transfer of tastes, especially enjoying the muskiness that was all Sebastian. Their tongues mingled eagerly until the kiss could no longer contain their mutual passion.  
   
Sebastian’s mouth fell to Atobe’s neck and the master flattened his back against the bed post that supported him, vaguely wondering when the cup had left his hands and where it might be now, but he cared very little. What mattered was the combination of temporary satisfaction that warred in him with another unfulfilled desire.  
   
Deft hands slipped the robe from his shoulders as a sinful tongue tasted his skin as eagerly as he had tasted the tea. He wondered what exactly the demon’s senses interpreted. Did he gain the physical flavors of skin and the freshly blossomed sheen of arousal, or the essential oils Atobe had rubbed into his body that morning? Or did he savor something more emotional; some essence of the soul that only an otherworldly being could interact with?  
   
Either way, Atobe took great pleasure in the rough, wet feel of Sebastian’s tongue manipulating his nipple and the lips and teeth that closed upon it and slowly withdrew, leaving behind a trace of sensation as the demon slid lower, sampling the planes and ridges of chiseled abdominals and nipping at the jut of one luscious hip. His eyes flickered up to meet Atobe’s with bold lack of apology for the lingering sting.  
   
Atobe’s breath caught and his fingers delved roughly into pristinely kept hair just to see it mussed out of place. Sebastian met the action with a knowing chuckle that ignited a fire in Atobe’s loins. He used his hold on soft, dark hair to guide the demon to where he wanted it to be.  
   
A low groan escaped him as Sebastian’s mouth closed over his erection. His eyes rose to the mirror and he threw his free arm up to caress the bed post, holding onto it for balance even as his hips shifted subtly back and forth, squeezing a little extra friction out of the wet heat that threatened to become the center of his focus. To counter that threat, he focused on the view reflected before him; on the attractive curves and contractions of his muscles, the glint of his cold eyes, and the wanton shape of his lips as little gasps slipped from them. He writhed, appreciating the look of the motion as much as the sensation that trickled through his nerves at every movement of his own or Sebastian’s.  
   
Sebastian was certainly doing his part—that damn tongue curling and stroking in ways Atobe hadn’t imagined were possible even while his lips embraced and caressed with velvet texture and subtle strength. As exceptional as the view in the mirror was, it was the flicker of Sebastian’s eyes that caught Atobe’s attention and proved his undoing. His gaze was pulled down and he watched, enthralled, as Sebastian’s throat worked around the head of his spurting cock, swallowing every… last… drop…  
   
The next thing he knew, Sebastian stood before him; lips curved into a self-satisfied smile, hair fallen so perfectly back into place one would never know it had been ruffled, and as proper could be.  
   
“Would you like another cup now?” he asked mildly.  
   
Atobe growled, grabbed him by the lapels, and crushed their lips together in a vicious kiss that conveyed exactly what he thought of that idea. No way in hell was he getting tricked out of the main course so easily.  
   
*  
   
The offer of more tea had been playful baiting, intended to encourage another round of flirtatious banter. Sebastian had not expected to be taken up on it just yet... but nor had he been prepared for the aggressive counter. Taken aback, he let Atobe treat him like a rag doll, giving way to the forceful kiss and then allowing Atobe to whirl him about and toss him down on the bed like a whore. He lay there, arms outstretched, panting and a little flushed, and waited for the next rough jolt. Instead, Atobe planted one naked foot between his thighs, posed like an Adonis. He was remarkably calm and thoroughly unashamed for a boy who was stark naked and still coming down from a strong orgasm.  
   
Not that Atobe had anything to be ashamed of. His body was precisely toned, his skin pristine, his voice enticing. Even so, there had to be some hole in his defenses, some crack in his confidence, something Sebastian could turn to his advantage…  
   
The demon shuddered as he gazed up into unwavering eyes even while the boy's toes wormed up the seat of his pants, massaging his crotch with uncommon flexibility. He may have somewhat underestimated this quarry.  
   
The next thing he knew, Atobe’s knee was nestled snugly against his balls and that strong body loomed over him.  
   
“De-robe,” Atobe ordered, not moving an inch to give Sebastian room to do as he was told.  
   
“Yes, My King,” Sebastian responded huskily, working his fingers in the cramped space between their bodies to release the many buttons that lined his torso.  
   
He shuffled and shifted—arching his back, bending his knuckles, and hooking a leg about Atobe’s hips—but little by little, he managed to remove jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. All the while, Atobe remained as still and solid as a rock, his eyes reflecting the sense of power that hummed in him, his lips and cheeks betraying amusement at this new game.  
   
Sebastian managed to un-buckle and unzip his pants, pulling them down to expose white cotton, but the knee applying a constant, unyielding pressure to his crotch proved problematic. Instead of pointing this out, he relaxed his body and lay flat, raising a brow in inquiry.  
   
Atobe’s smirk widened and, just as silently, he shifted the positioning of his knee to wedge under Sebastian’s thigh, sitting up and following with the other knee. His hips slightly raised now, Sebastian continued to slide off the trousers that completed his new uniform, pulling first one leg toward his chest and then the other in order to remove them without displacing Atobe. That left only the white briefs.  
   
“Enough,” Atobe announced, taking hold of Sebastian’s hips and hauling on them firmly until their crotches came into direct contact.  
   
Sebastian yielded a gasp as Atobe’s re-hardening length pressed and slid against his own, separated only by a thin layer of soft material. He then groaned as Atobe scooped him up in a powerful arm and held him aloft for a kiss that was mostly tongue. Meanwhile, their lower halves ground together and Sebastian’s long legs wrapped tightly about Atobe’s waist, holding them even more firmly entwined.  
   
He let Atobe take his weight, his head hanging back on his neck as his master began kissing and licking his neck, paying particular attention to the beauty spot contract. One arm was curled supportively about Sebastian’s back, but the other hand roamed, pinching his nipples and clawing softly over the skin of his hips and belly. All the while, Chopin’s music faded in and out of hearing from quiet raindrop teasings to dramatic chords that riled the psyche.  
   
For Sebastian, pleasuring even this master had been about as erotic as serving tea or folding linens—that was to say, it was somewhat, if not entirely, erotic. More importantly, it was a task to be taken care of with delicacy and attention to detail. However, the moment Atobe’s aggression surfaced, Sebastian’s libido had begun to awaken. It was fully provoked now and every spark of friction, every soft lick and scrape of teeth or nails, every deep rumble of approval… all of it added fuel to the fire. Shortly, Atobe would learn what it meant to dance with a demon, but for now, Sebastian was content to let his passion brew.  
   
*  
   
Exerting control over Sebastian was a heady rush. The tangle of tongues and grinding of groins was only the beginning. Every time the demon reacted to his touch—body arching or twisting, breath hissing or throat working around muted mewls and whimpers—every little accession was a prize worth winning, and the winning made Atobe’s heart pound with excitement.  
   
However, he wanted more. He wanted total dominion.  
   
Retreating from the kiss, pulling back further even as Sebastian’s lips followed, he paused to regain his breath, assessing the wild glimmer in dark eyes tinted with red. Slowly, he let his hold slip, eventually causing Sebastian to fall back onto the mattress, staring up at him without the slightest change in his greedy expression.  
   
He grasped white cotton moistened almost to transparency over a surprisingly large surface area. “Look at you, all wet,” he chuckled, his eyes on Sebastian’s as he crawled down to taste the fruits of his labor. First, he wrapped lips about the jutting tent of cotton, sucking out the moisture. Then, he tugged it down, taking Sebastian into his mouth and reveling in the demon’s rapturous hiss.  
   
Even as Atobe employed all of his skill and elicited exactly the kinds of moans and groans he had in mind, the demon maintained his façade of servitude. “There’s no need for that, My King,” he rasped. “Allow me to be the one to please you.”  
   
Atobe hummed, deep in his throat, slowly applying suction from base to tip until his mouth was freed to speak. “It pleases me to demonstrate my prowess,” he insisted. “When I want you to please me, I’ll order it.”  
   
“My, such confidence,” Sebastian drawled, quickly regaining his composure. Even with his belly fluttering and his cock twitching before Atobe’s eyes, he managed to incorporate notes of skepticism and challenge into his tone.  
   
“Ahn?” Instead of bandying words, Atobe simply took hold of Sebastian’s thighs and rolled them up, giving himself unimpeded access. He lavished broad strokes up the crease of fine buttocks and then swirled his tongue about the little rosebud focal point, spearing in now and then with greater frequency until he was working his tongue boldly in and out of Sebastian’s ass.  
   
When Atobe considered himself satisfied and raised his face, he was greeted with bared teeth and a body stiff with restraint. He grinned. “Now you may please me.”  
   
As if that permission was all that had held him back, Sebastian surged up and exerted unexpected strength to sweep Atobe against him and flip their bodies. The butler landed with his knees flanking Atobe’s hips and wasted no time in positioning himself. His nails dug little crescents into Atobe’s pectoral muscles as he bore down, smoothly taking the brunt of his master’s revitalized erection in one go.  
   
Atobe had no complaints. Still reeling from the change of perspective, he was swiftly consumed in the encompassing sensation of tight heat and swept up into a cadence of motion that didn’t let up for a moment. Sebastian moved with fluid precision, riding eagerly. He kept his balance and pace, even when leaning down to swipe his tongue over the nail marks left behind during his mounting.  
   
He dedicated himself to Atobe’s pleasure; licking, biting, squeezing, and writhing, all in ways that would add to the pool of growing pressure in Atobe’s loins. When Atobe moved to contribute, he was held down. Meanwhile, Sebastian slicked up his fingers and reached around to tease Atobe’s entrance, working up to a shallow two-fingered thrust that kept Atobe distracted for a short while. Then, Sebastian sat back and began to rise with earnest, his thighs working diligently with appealing ripples of motion, his body squeezed tightly for ever-greater friction. The feeling was exquisite.  
   
However, it soon became apparent to Atobe that Sebastian was avoiding stimulation on his own part—clearly out of a sense of duty.  
   
Grabbing slim hips, Atobe held them down firmly and began to pump his own, driving up and adjusting his angle until Sebastian let out a cry of exultation. It was all the impetus Atobe needed to rise up and topple the demon onto his back, pinning him down, head protruding over the end of the bed and hair falling away, slave to gravity. Just like that, he began pounding with targeted thrusts designed to push Sebastian beyond his limits.  
   
“Be awed... by my... prowess,” he spoke between thrusts.  
   
Understanding flooded Sebastian’s expression and then moments later, it contorted with ecstasy as he released the bounds of his tight self-control, putting his pleasure fully on display for his master. Atobe’s whole body flushed with heat as he watched Sebastian’s cheeks twitch, his eyes squeeze closed and then open wide, pupils dilated and ringed with red. His mouth hung open in a sensual cry until Atobe sealed it off with a kiss from which he could no longer refrain.  
   
As Sebastian’s hips shuddered and bucked, Atobe continued to pound him hard, dragging the orgasm out. By the time it passed, he was beginning to feel the pinch in his lungs. Seconds ticked by almost to a minute before he emerged from the kiss, gasping for breath and trembling with the force of his own need.  
   
Panting, he stared down into Sebastian’s eyes. The demon still hung over the edge of the bed, looking up at him with the same hunger he had seen earlier. Swollen red lips curled into a grin.  
   
“I wouldn’t say ‘awed,’ exactly,” he breathed, “but there might be room for further persuasion.” His nails trailed down Atobe’s spine in invitation.  
   
Atobe, meanwhile, ran his fingers down Sebastian's lightly pink-stained cheek, slick with the dew of exertion. “I thought demons were supposed to be excellent liars,” he hummed.  
   
Lips sealed, Sebastian's throat rumbled with a short laugh that Atobe took to indicate concession. “Are you through showing off?” the demon asked, betraying his underlying impatience as his fingers slid up and down between Atobe’s ass cheeks, pressing teasingly against his entrance.  
   
“For now,” Atobe granted. “Let's see how you fare with other sins, shall we?”  
  
“Sin has little meaning to my kind,” Sebastian informed him, pushing himself up and Atobe with him, while pressing first one finger and then a second inside Atobe’s body. “Except in the matter of seasoning…” The smile he wore grew crooked and his gaze seemed to un-focus for a moment as if he saw something from beyond the physical realm. “Greed and Gluttony you have in refined portions,” he commented, disengaging their lower bodies as he pushed Atobe down onto his back and worked his two fingers in deeper, “but for all that Envy is almost missing in you…” Slow inward pressure, and then he pulled back just a little before sliding his fingers deeper and crooking them. “Lust…”  Atobe’s breath hitched in response to the thrill of pleasure Sebastian’s fingertips incited with a bare brush against his sweet spot. “And especially… Pride…” Now, he pressed gently against that spot and began to swirl his fingers in a circle. Atobe fought to suppress his reaction but before long, he was biting his lip and breathing in strained puffs, his abs fluttering with each inhalation. “…Are particularly overpowering.”  
   
Poised above him, Sebastian took a deep breath in as if savoring a pungent scent. All Atobe could smell was the mint of the tea that still filled the air, and he wondered if his soul smelled half as wonderful to the demon as that tea did to him.  
   
“For the record, I’d rather be caught dead than wallowing in Sloth,” he said gruffly. “As for Wrath… Would you like to test my boundaries some more…?”  
   
“I think I would much rather explore your Lust… and find out if there are any limits at all to that magnificent Pride of yours,” Sebastian murmured, working his fingers back and forth as he spoke.  
   
Atobe ran his hands up and down Sebastian’s chest, enjoying the feel of subtle muscles different to those of the athletic bodies he was accustomed to. He rarely allowed his partners to top—not for fear of losing control but because he enjoyed being the one to bestow pleasure and seeing what it did to others. This once, though, he was afraid he might just lose himself in his partner. If he did, he might just lose himself altogether because his soul was riding on his ability to outsmart his opponent…  
   
For Sebastian… it might almost be worth it.  
   
“Take me,” he begged—somehow managing so give the plea the inflection of an order.  
   
“Yes, My King,” Sebastian intoned, moving to comply without pause.  
   
His fingers were withdrawn and replaced by a thicker length, soft to the touch but stiff at its core. When, exactly, he had gotten so hard again, Atobe couldn’t even begin to guess. Hardly any time seemed to have passed since Atobe had forced him to climax, and yet…  
   
Perhaps it was whatever delicious scent Atobe’s soul was giving off… It wouldn’t be surprising. Atobe was bound to be ten times as delicious as the next man. What demon wouldn’t get a kick out of his concentrated essence?  
   
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Atobe gasped freely as Sebastian began to slide into him, caressing his insides in a slow, smooth glide. Breathing deliberately, he controlled the swelling of his diaphragm and settled for shallow intake and exhalation until Sebastian’s balls sat tightly against his ass. Then, he took a deep breath and appreciated the sense of fullness.  
  
He was fixated on Sebastian’s fascinating eyes and the way that black satin hair fell forward over one ear to contrast pale, angular features. The more Atobe stared at him, the more beautiful he seemed. It might even be possible that his beauty eclipsed Atobe’s own.  
   
“You’re mine,” he whispered.  
   
“Yes,” Sebastian confirmed.  
   
Atobe started, not having realized that he had spoken the words aloud. Then, his eyes narrowed and he growled. “Tonight, you’ll store the tea pot in a safe place, then tomorrow evening you'll re-fill it to the brim with water, boil it, and prepare me another cup,” he ordered.  
   
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “It will be diluted,” he argued. “The flavor-”  
   
“I went a month without proper tea,” he pointed out. “I can subsist on inferior quality for another if I must… but we’ll discuss that later.”  
   
The play of emotion across Sebastian’s face was all too clear. Atobe had revealed his hand in a manner and moment that was both infuriating and shocking. Anger registered first and foremost but surprise was just as prevalent… then a grudging kind of respect followed by amusement, and finally a dash of endearment.  
   
“I confess, you had me fooled,” Sebastian murmured. “But let us discuss this later in a more appropriate fashion… Presently, we have other matters to attend to.”  
   
“I’ll say!” Atobe emphatically agreed. He rocked his hips to drive the point home but it had a stronger effect on him than on Sebastian. He felt cotton-brained and feverish as he raised his arms up and closed them about Sebastian’s waist, feeling the subtle motion in lithe back muscles as Sebastian shifted for better balance. “Sooner or later… you’ll get what you want,” he gasped. “So don’t waste my time in the meanwhile!”  
   
The slow, predatory lift of one corner of the lips was all the commentary Atobe needed to know exactly what was going on in this depraved creature’s mind. However, he promptly forgot all about it as Sebastian’s hips drew back and snapped forward with vigor.  
   
Crying out, Atobe clutched more tightly to the body in his arms and held on as he was driven unerringly towards the brink.  
   
*  
   
Sebastian was infused with a singular purpose: pitting his body against Atobe’s in a battle of flesh vs. will. He was fired up with a cocktail of unpleasant emotions but the flames burned with pure lust—that was the power of this boy. His confidence and unfailing sense of self penetrated even Sebastian’s defenses.  
   
There was no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that Atobe had planned all along to enjoy the one unsullied cup and then dilute the remainder, satisfying the bare minimum of his craving while cautiously preserving the contents of the pot to protect the letter of the contract. He intended to keep Sebastian’s services for as long as he could combat the desire to drain the pot dry of the last dregs of flavor that remained.  
   
By fooling Sebastian into thinking he could be swayed to part casually with his soul over one measly pot of tea, Atobe had brought the demon’s guard down and secured a contract full of loopholes. It was almost laughably apparent in retrospect. If only he had been more wary of this blustering narcissist…  
   
So why wasn’t he biting at the bit?  
   
Ciel Phantomhive… The similarities were numerous, however the most evident of those was in Sebastian himself.  
   
On several occasions, he had had the chance to decide his contract with Ciel consummated. On several occasions, he had found loopholes in the boy’s favor and chosen of his own will to prolong it instead.  
   
If asked by the boy, he would have answered that his meal was not yet fully prepared. In truth, he had enjoyed the preparation a little too much to put an end to it prematurely.  
   
Sebastian had intentionally chosen the largest tea pot in the kitchen. He had even taken measures to seal in the flavor so that the brew could maintain its quality over a longer period of time. There were ways Sebastian could end this contract if he chose… but for now, he was intrigued to see where it led. In fact, he could think of several ways to drag it out. If Atobe ordered it, he could procure more tea and serve from another pot... Nothing in their contracted prohibited this.  
   
To be perfectly honest… he wasn’t nearly as level-headed about this deal as he would like.  
   
Perhaps he had been lying after all. Perhaps there was some amount of awe in him toward this boy who believed so thoroughly in himself that he bent the very fabric of the universe to his will. Perhaps he was simply susceptible to the utterly material value of an admittedly perfect human figure in a master who seemed quite intent on their mutual pleasure. There were certainly worse ways to pass eternity…  
   
Perhaps Sebastian was simply a baser creature than he liked to admit. From the moment he had been summoned to Atobe’s side, he had been tempted toward the sensual and the longer he remained in Atobe’s presence, the more potent the attraction—as if his lust itself was steeping quietly and gaining in potency by the moment. Even after boiling over, the chemistry between them remained compelling almost to the point of intoxication. Now, with Atobe at his mercy, Sebastian had no interest in contractual details. His whole being was concentrated on bringing Atobe to a shattering climax.

To that end, Sebastian applied every iota of skill he possessed. However, his tactics and techniques had Atobe leaking, writhing, and moaning, but stubbornly holding on by a thread. Breathing heavily, Sebastian stilled his hips and gazed down at the remarkable boy who was now his master. Around them, the music of Chopin swelled to a crescendo and displaced rose petals trembled atop the sheets with the motion stirred by bodies shuddering with panted breath. Cutting through the musk of sweat, refreshing mint and undertones of rose and chamomile hung in the air, filling Sebastian’s lungs and adding to the heady fog that romanced him…

All at once, it came to him. Atobe’s weakness was all around them, seducing all of their senses.  
   
This self-obsessed buffoon was a hopeless romantic!  
   
Sliding one hand beneath Atobe’s head, Sebastian curled his fingers into a damp mess of thick lilac. He leaned in and whispered, “Cum for me, My King,” brushing his lips ever so softly against Atobe’s as he rolled his hips in a subtle, continuous motion zeroing in on his master's sweet spot. Plying it with a constant graze of friction while the tip of his tongue teased that of Atobe’s, Sebastian let slip a purr and his fist twisted about the swollen head of Atobe’s cock.  
   
Just like that, Atobe’s whole body seized up. Sebastian’s fingers in his hair tightened and pulled, causing his neck to arch with a small degree of pain while the demon’s lips closed over his master’s, swallowing the long, low cry that issued from his throat. Short, shallow thrusts kept him locked in the throes of orgasm for an inhuman amount of time while Sebastian’s fist was drenched with juices.  
   
Even then, Atobe wasn’t done. He overthrew Sebastian with pure stubbornness, planting his hands on the demon’s belly and pumping his thighs while squeezing his buttocks tight. His nails curled and released, scratching persistently. His eyes glinted with a determined light as he rode like a man possessed in pursuit of Sebastian's pleasure. Still, his belly jerked and fluids leaked from his tip in erratic spurts, and it was those moments—the fleeting, overwhelmed glitches in his expression, posture, and muscular control—that tugged Sebastian across the threshold. Clawing at Atobe’s hips, Sebastian bucked wildly as he climaxed once more, hissing his master’s name through gritted teeth.

*

Sebastian was truly exceptional. Before Atobe was even able to confirm his grasp on reality after that incredible experience, his body was clean and the sullied bed covers taken care of. How Sebastian had managed that feat while Atobe lay prone and near senseless in the middle of the bed, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Even so, he was able to snuggle comfortably with his new butler in a state of cleanly contentment. The music continued to play softly in the background. The tea pot was gone but the scent remained. The petals littered not only the bed but both of their bodies and Atobe played with one, tracing it about Sebastian’s chest as they lay in satisfied silence.

“That was one hell of a pot of tea,” Atobe murmured after a while.

“Well, I am one hell of a butler,” Sebastian responded. “And besides, that was only one cup…”

“I’m in no hurry,” Atobe sighed, truthfully. He’d gotten far more than he bargained for, after all. Just because he was rich, didn’t mean he was also greedy. Then again… “Yet,” he added in retrospect. It really was a divine blend.  
   
“Until the last drop, I am yours to command,” said Sebastian, as if Atobe had forgotten it for a moment.  
   
“Excellent,” Atobe commended. “Do you happen to play tennis?”

“Tennis…?”  
   
“No matter. I’m sure you’ll learn…”


End file.
